Vanity
by Dyslexic Angel
Summary: Moving to the middle of nowhere is bad enough, but when the school's top fighter hates your guts, things have potential to go very wrong... LeonxCloud, Shonenai, AU
1. Enter the scenery

Look! I'm not dead! Sorry about the long lapse; I've been getting over a king-sized case of writer's block, but I seem to be pretty well over it now.

Now, for courtesy's sake; DISCLAIMER!

Three truths and a lie;

I'm fourteen years old.

I write fanfic.

My parents think I am doing homework.

I own Kingdom Hearts.

…No, it isn't that hard to guess. (For those with too much faith in my parents, it's the last) Without further ado…. Vanity!

**Blah-** is Yuffie I.M.ing Cloud.

_Blah-_ is Cloud messaging Yuffie.

Cloud's PoV

Moving sucks. It really does. I ran a hand through my hair, ignoring the stiffness of the gel. I was used to it, after all. Sighing, I got up and opened to box I had been using for a chair. Books, just like the three other boxes already brought into my room. Reading was something I enjoyed, and now I wouldn't have much else TO do. Thankfully, there was a pretty good library, or I really _would_ go mad. I pulled the books out of the box and began arranging them on the empty shelf. Science fiction mostly, some fantasy. A handful of non-fiction, hard science and a few lonely history texts. I love math, particularly the applied math in science and physics. The books were all squared away on the shelf that ran along one wall at head height. Head height on me, which meant _maybe_ chest-high on most guys my age. Being short sucks. The walls were already covered with stuff I had shipped over from my old room; a mishmash of posters, newspaper clippings, artwork and poetry covered most of the walls. I frowned; I needed to get some more stuff, there was still white paint showing.

I headed outside to grab another box of stuff off the lawn. Junk was piled pretty randomly higher than my head in places, but I wasn't really paying attention. I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, the kind you get when someone is watching you for reasons you don't like. I looked around quickly. The street was empty, but across the way a guy was leaning casually on the railing of an ornate wrought-iron balcony. I couldn't tell much about him, just that he was tall and had brown hair right down to his shoulder blades, cut jagged and spiky. I gave him a good glare and grabbed a box, one with my name penned across the top—Cloud Strife, and don't you forget it. It wasn't my birth name; time and lazy memories had lost that. It was the name I was given when I was just a child, moving from foster home to foster home. The 'cloud' bit embarrassed me sometimes, since it sounded like a woman's name, but Strife suited me like a tight-fitting leather glove.

The brown-haired guy was STILL watching me. I flipped him off, and then carried the box into the house. Creepy neighbors. Feh. Just what I need. It took me _hours_ to get my room set up, same general arrangement as my room back in Massachusetts. The effect wasn't the same, though—the room was a touch too long and narrow, and far too high-ceilinged. I thought again about getting something to cover the white wall showing through. I paced over and looked out the window. It overlooked a small corner of the back yard, a twenty foot square walled on three sides with a tree in one corner and climbing rose completely covering one high brown brick wall. A wooden lathe covered in cat's claw covered the spot, further enhancing the impression of a room. I eyed the window, calculating. The screen should pop out easily… I slid the window open and was surprised again at the heat. Phoenix Arizona was apparently hotter in the shade than full sun in Boston. Outside seemed suddenly less appealing. Still, I continued what I had started and popped the window screen off with a grating noise and climbed out.

The window was easily twice as big as the one in my old room, and easy to climb through. I dropped the three feet to the burnished flagstone and looked around. The fourth open side, which had not been visible from my angle, opened into the pool area. That was one of the few perks; I had heard that you could swim outside year-round in phoenix, and I was beginning to re-think my initial skepticism. The pool took up pretty much the entire back yard, and glittered like some kind of gem, like the stone in my birth-mothers wedding ring that was all I had left of her. Aquamarine. Aqua, for water, marine for ocean. Seemed kind of redundant. The heat outside was indescribable. Just out of curiosity, I walked over to the pool and stuck my hand in. Walking into the sun was like being hit by a hammer; I suddenly understood why mother had insisted I wear the heavy sunscreen. Even with it, I still felt like I was burning. The water in the pool didn't help any; I had had cooler baths! How did people survive here! I quickly retreated to the shade and closed my window down to a tiny crack so that my room wouldn't get hot.

Four huge terra cotta pots stood in the corners of the small outdoor 'room', not flower pots but huge unglazed jars. I wondered what they were for, until I remembered something I had read. The Egyptians, I think it was, had filled clay pots with water. Then, as the water evaporated, it had cooled the water, the jars, and the Egyptians. I grinned and grabbed the hose in one corner, and filled all four jars, wetting the whole area and myself for good measure. The temperature in the area had dropped noticeably, but it still wasn't weather to be outside in. I opened up the window and slipped back inside, shivering from the air conditioning on my damp clothes and skin. The water had just rolled off the gel in my hair. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and ran it over my arms to dry them. That was another perk of the move; my own bathroom. Not that I liked this move. I had been wholeheartedly in favor of staying in Newton, with my girlfriend and the people I'd known most of my life. My girlfriend… Aerith Gainsborough. The genuine nicest person I'd ever met. Beautiful too—creamy skin, long cinnamon hair, and eyes like pieces of moss agate—but it was her kindness that first attracted me. I am not a nice person by nature, but she didn't mind. She was nice enough for both of us.

I shook myself out of my musings and booted up my computer, a brand new top-of-the-line laptop, bought by my parents on a guilt trip. It booted quickly, with a sound effect of booming thunder, presenting my background; a drawing of a catboy wearing a tee-shirt I liked. The shirt read "it's a case of mind over matter. I don't mind, and you don't matter." I had thought it was the funniest thing. I quickly hooked up the last cord—a DSL connection. I opened up instant messenger and clicked up my friends list. It was depressingly short. LuckyStars17… Aerith. A guy named Alex I had never met, my cousin in New Hampshire… no one was logged on but GreatNinjaYuffie, a girl my age claiming to live in this scorching place. I thought for a moment, then clicked on the name. A small window popped up, reading _Strife93 has logged in_. I smiled slightly; with that username, I could be anyone.

**Hey Cloud-chan!** Yuffie described herself as otaku, i.e. obsessed with all things Japanese. Yuffie had tried to explain honorifics, but all I got was that it wasn't (really) insulting.

_Hey Yuffie. All moved in now. Just finished setting up the computer._

**Really? How are you likin the valley of fire?**I rolled my eyes at Yuffie's nickname for the city.

_It's hotter than an oven here! First place I've been where you can literally fry an egg on the sidewalk._

**Poor Cloudie-chan, moving in in the middle of July… Cheer up, it'll drop down to the nineties by mid-October.** I choked. Nineties! In OCTOBER!

_How hot does that make today, in degrees?_ I typed, morbidly curious.

**Not that bad. Only 114. Could be worse.** I choked again and felt like my eyes were going to fall out of my head. I decided it was time to change the subject.

_So… what school do you go to?_ I crossed my fingers and muttered a wish.

**Sophomore at good ol' SHS. Sunnyslope High School. You?** I felt like cheering. Yuffie might be crazy, but she was familiar. She had even sent me a picture of herself in a ninja outfit once.

_There is a god. Freshman at Sunnyslope, starting next year._

**OMFG! Lol/\/\ yeah!** I smiled a touch at Yuffie's comment. **Meet you at the front gate, two weeks from Monday, then?**

_Sure, but why two weeks?_

**Lol. First day of school, baka. Meet quarter till?** I checked mentally. Two weeks until school started? But that would be august…7th. I glanced at my desk calendar. Yup, first day of school, write where mom had written it. Shit.

_Why do I smell brimstone all of a sudden?_

**Lol. Welcome to Hell, buddy.**

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? This is another story done with kingdom hearts characters, but as high school characters. This is NOT IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS CYNICAL WORLD! Just so you know. But most of the other warnings do apply—future shonen ai, irregular updates, highly original character view. Anyway, thanks for reading—and if I get, oh… three reviews, the next chapter should be up by Tuesday. Thanks!


	2. Lovers are in pain

Chapter two

Lovers are in pain

Leon's PoV

Someone finally moved into that house. A cute guy, my age… and apparently a snotty bastard. Just my luck. It didn't help that Yuffie was going on nonstop about this friend of hers that had just moved here. I wasn't really listening until she smacked me. Scratch that, I wasn't really listening at all. I had my won life to get on with—getting ready for my sophomore year at a new high school. Yuffie swore I would love SHS, but then again, this is the same girl who once decided I would make a great dart board to test shuriken and kunai on, so her judgment was naturally a little circumspect. Still, she is the closest thing to a friend. I don't have friends. I have people I detest marginally less. Well, and my boyfriend, but Damian is and always will be a special case. Mostly, I just don't like people. All this thinking was just getting me depressed.

I pushed myself up off the bed in my messy second-floor room. When dad left, it was just mom and me in the trash heap that was all we could afford. We're better off without him. Since then, Mom went to college, working two jobs and a partial scholarship, and got herself a degree. Now she teaches at the local elementary school, and we live in a pretty upscale house in a (mostly) decent part of town. I glared at the poster covered walls of a moment, pictures of dead rock stars grinning back. I snorted and shut off the radio, cutting off the loud heavy metal, then changed into going out clothes—a loose black tank top and tight black jeans. Normally I would go for leather, but in Phoenix, I'd just be lightly broiled in five minutes. The black was bad enough.

My car was waiting in the driveway—my pride and joy, an ancient cherry-red convertible, perfectly restored, with black-and-blue flames painted down the sides by a friend of Yuffie's. Brat had charged me fifty bucks, plus materials, but it was worth it. I gunned the engine and backed out, mentally going over a list of places Damian was likely to be. My boyfriend refused to get a cell phone, so it could be a lot of work to track him down sometimes. Today was Saturday, so he'd probably be at the library. I flicked the stereo on as I drove, and loud music streamed out, but not the heavy metal I'd been listening to before. This was a j-pop disk Yuffie had bought me for Christmas. I had to admit, track two, 'Cynical World' really fit my mood some days. Fairly soon, I reached the library—practically Damian's second home. Five floors of books. I liked to read well enough—books were piled on nearly every flat surface of my room—but for Damian, it was a passion. It was pretty normal for me to look for him here before his house. Damian was in his usual chair—I had heard the librarians talking about just writing 'reserved' on it—in the back corner of fiction, right beside the plate glass wall overlooking the tiny park. I paused to admire him for a long moment before he knew I was there. Strait, blue-black hair falling just to the fine line of his jaw, fair skin stretched perhaps a tad too hard over impossibly high cheekbones and black lashes framing eyes the color of caramel. Even the harsh desert sunlight had failed to darken his fair complexion, and his eyes seemed to glow with enthusiasm for what he was reading, science fiction by the look of it. I cleared my throat and he looked up, a dazzling grin spreading across his face as he recognized me. I grinned back, a tad shyly.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. You have a reason to come looking for me?" His eyes were so alive, so expressive as he cocked his head inquisitively. Damian's smile was infections, and my smile grew teasing.

"Do I need one?" Golden eyes glittered.

"I don't suppose you do." He rose gracefully and stoop before me. On his feet, he was about three inches shorter than me, and notably slighter, but he still gave the impression of being overwhelming. I hugged him quickly, and he responded by stealing a quick kiss.

"Was wondering if you wanted to go out for ice cream?" I suggested. I never got enough time with Damian. He grinned and nodded, and we walked out of the library side-by side. Our favorite ice-cream place was nearly full today, so we ate outside despite the heat. Mango for me, Chocolate for Damian. We'd both taken an online quiz, what ice cream flavor are you, and Damian had gotten mango for wild, exotic and optimistic. Of course, I had gotten vanilla for calm, mild-mannered, and subtle. Damian had laughed at that so hard he fell of his chair, and I had given the computer an ugly glare and switched to playing Halo on Damian's Xbox. I had a well-earned reputation as a fighter. I'd had more than my share of trouble with gangs, and I wasn't the loser in those troubles. Damian and I finished the ice-cream and climbed into my car, no words needing to be spoken. We knew each other that well.

'Where to?" I asked. 'Ian pretended to think or a moment.

"My place?" I grinned and nodded, flicking on the stereo and changing the disk. A female folk singer's voice spilled out, and Damian leaned back in his chair and watched me drive. Damian is, and always has been, an original. He moved out on his parents when he turned sixteen, and 'his place' is an apartment not very far from my house. Mostly he mooched rides off me, but he was near enough Sunnyslope to be able to walk there. That was one of the few reasons I agreed to go to Sunnyslope this year. He worked near school too, long hours to pay for the apartment. His parents cut him off when he moved out, and so far as I can see, the feeling was mutual. I looked over at him as we neared his house; his eyes were closed, with dark shadows under them, and even the warm sunlight pounding through the tinted windshield failed to lend color to his icy-pale skin. I was worried about him. Damian is proud, and that pride won't let him do less than his best at everything. He's incredibly smart, but homework, work and school wear him out, and he's too proud to complain to anyone. We were at his house. With no color to his skin at all, Damian looked like a statue carved from marble and ebony. His eyes opened slowly when I killed the engine, the music cutting off sharply.

"You alright?" I asked. Damian smiled, a tad wearily.

"Yeah. Nothing a little sleep won't cure." I frowned, not really wanting to heed the unspoken signal and drop it.

"You never seem to get any sleep, though." He flashed me a reassuring grin, the shadows never leaving his eyes.

"I'll be ok." I looked away, conceding the argument for now. I followed him into the apartment, smiling slightly at the faint smell of lemon furniture polish. You wouldn't figure a teenage boy's apartment to be pathologically clean, but Damian's sure fit the bill. He didn't have the money for much clutter, and what he had was kept neurotically clean. We sat down on the second-hand couch, a ratty thing that had seen better days, with Damian laying his head on my chest. I put my arms around him, and we just sat like that or a long time, not needing words. His breathing slowed, and I realized he was falling asleep. I shifted to make him more comfortable. Damian had a bad tendency to push himself until he dropped. It was pleasant, just sitting there with him in my arms, smelling faintly of shampoo and sweat. Then he began to snore slightly, and I held back a chuckle with difficulty. He was so peaceful asleep, so different from his colorful exuberance when he was awake. Even sitting still, he always seemed poised to fly. I picked him up, carefully, cradling him to my chest. He was light, lighter than he should have been. I made a mental note to make sure he ate something. His bedroom was spare, almost barren as I lay him down on the steel-framed bed and pulled the blankets over him. He never stirred.

I walked back to the kitchen/living room and opened the fridge. Unsurprisingly, it was mostly empty. When 'Ian got busy, he skipped shopping, and as a result, skipped eating. I grabbed the grocery list off the fridge and headed back out to my car. It took me about an hour to get everything on the list, as well as a bag of the lemon hard candies I knew he liked. When I put the stuff away and looked in on him, Damian was still fast asleep in the orange-gold sunset streaming through the dirty glass. Letting myself out again, I drove the eight blocks home. The house across the street still had stuff on the front lawn, but the blond brat was nowhere to be seen. I shook my head, trying to shake away the thought. I did _not_ need to go picking another fight… When I got to the house, mom had already returned and left. She'd left a note, saying she'd gone on a date, and she'd probably be back around midnight. An ex-frozen meal was sitting in the oven on keep warm. I ate by myself, having no other company. The silence was near total, and I found it oppressing. Leaving the empty plastic tray in the sink, I headed up to my room and flopped on the bed, smacking on the radio as I passed. It was still early, but I was tired. I finally fell asleep just as the sun slipped below the horizon, to the haunting strains of Beethoven's fifth symphony. The last thing I remember was thinking about a report I'd had to do, years ago, on the five classical composers. Remembering that Beethoven's fifth symphony had once been called the symphony of destiny.

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Nobody reviewed. Way to kill my self-esteem guys. O.K., I don't mean that. Or I won't in the morning anyway. Still, is it so much to ask that out of 61 hits, just one reviews? I'm not even angry, just depressed. I don't have the, I don't know, enthusiasm to be angry. This is going to be a very short fic if this keeps up. So yeah, this chapter is up way early. I had it done early, and I was going to hold onto it at least until Tuesday, but it looks like this fic may already be in critical, so.

REVIEW! Please? OO


	3. They blame and pick on each other

Sorry about the wait, but I think the long chappy is worth it. Also, sorry about being so…whiny last chappy. I'm over it now. Gomen. Bows

Cloud's PoV

The alarm buzzed, and I swatted it blearily. Why had I set the alarm so early? In the summer? It is still summer… shit! School! I swatted the alarm again and finally managed to turn it off. The sun was already streaming in, painfully hot on my skin where it managed to peak through the cats claw and the curtains. I stumbled out to the bathroom and washed my face, blinking the water from my eyes and hunting for the gel. I normally showered at night, and then went to bed with it wet, so it was hanging in limp blond hanks nearly to my shoulders. I found the gel—a grey tube with the word 'concrete' stamped on it in red—and carefully spiked my hair. Once the stuff was set I brushed my teeth and headed out to the kitchen. Riffling through the fridge, I found cold-cuts and a slightly spotty apple; I made myself a sandwich and threw it and the fruit in a bag. Yuffie had warned me about the school food. Pasting on my best scowl, I headed out the door. Dad was already at work, despite the early hour, and mom wasn't up yet, so I was stuck riding my bike. It wasn't that far, but it was already cursedly hot. I actually got there a few minutes early, already regretting my black sleeveless shirt. I wasn't sure which was worse; the black was hot, but the bare skin _burned_. Yuffie was waiting for me by the gate. I recognized her from the photo. I waved as I rode into outer courtyard with the bike rack, but she just waved back without appearing to recognize me. I could have smacked myself when the reason hit me. Duh, she doesn't know what your look like, _genius_. I locked up my bike and walked over to Yuffie, who was standing by the fence next to… the tall brunet from across the street. Really, I have all the luck.

"Yuffie?" I asked, more to get her attention than because I didn't know. She jumped and looked at me, blowing short black hair out of her eyes.

"Cloud?" I nodded slightly. Yep, that's me. I should have expected her reaction. She went ballistic. "Oh my god! Why didn't you _tell_ me you were bishonen?" I found myself being hugged. Screw that, more like being put in a vise.

"Yuffie, I think he might like some air." The brunet chimed in, sounding far too amused. Yuffie let go, apologizing, but I bristled and glared. Suddenly, she grinned.

"Oh yeh!" Honestly, just as perky in person as online… "Leon, this is Cloud. Cloudie-chan, this is Leon. Don't mind him, he just hates you. He hates everyone, except Damian, of course. You don't have a problem with shonen-ai, do you?" It was only thanks to a very long, embarrassing conversation with this same girl that I even know what it meant. I couldn't resist an uncharitable thought, it figures the bastard's gay, too. Almost immediately I felt guilty; mustn't be derogatory to homosexuals who aren't Leon. After all, Vincent, good friend of mine back home was bi, but Leon just got under my skin like that. Yuffie finally realized Leon and I were too busy glaring at each other to listen to her after she had been talking for about two minutes; I hadn't heard a word since she'd introduced my creepy neighbor. My neighbor with unusual eyes; they were very pale grey, ringed with a darker charcoal, and reminded me very much of a wolf's pelt. Leon was the first to look away, spotting something—someone—over my shoulder, and those strange eyes lit up like a Vegas strip at sundown. I looked up myself, and blinked at the rather ordinary man that met my eyes.

Blue-black hair, light brown eyes, and very pale skin; taller than me, but everyone is. Looking at the suddenly gentle expression in Leon's eyes, I surmised that this was Damian. I shrugged, and took a seat on the low wall in the courtyard, waiting for Yuffie to introduce him. She did, soon enough.

"Cloud, this is Damian. Damian, my friend Cloud." I nodded cordially enough. No reason to be rude to him just because his boyfriend is a jerk. Somebody walked by holding a schedule and I realized I should try to find my class before the bell rang. I grabbed the card out of my pack and asked Yuffie where 801 was. Damian and Leon had already left together. Yuffie told me how to find my math class, and then she went off to talk to some of her other friends. I felt a moment of jealousy. But hey, it's high school. I _can't_ be the only one here who doesn't know anyone, what about the rest of the freshman? So I walked into math making a real effort not to be grumpy. It was getting kinda hard to stay that way by lunchtime. Somewhere, there is a god, and he _hates_ me. Leon was in two of my three morning classes.

I found a small corner by the library that was relatively cool, and ate quickly. It was hot out! Even my spikes were wilting, but there was a couple next to me, also taking advantage of the shady corner to make out. Ew. I went into the library. It was blessedly cool, if a tad bright and rather full. I went over to the nonfiction section and sat down between two shelves so nobody could see me. Much better. I hadn't been there for more than six seconds before I herd voices in the next row. I was temped to peak through, but the shelves had solid backs. Drat. The voices were vaguely familiar, though, so I listened.

"She's not that bad, and neither is he, for that matter. I seem to have missed the insulting tirade he apparently went on." The voice was light, teasing, and I heard the smile in the other man's voice.

"Maybe he isn't that bad. But I'm not going to be nice to him." The first voice laughed.

"Love, if you start being nice to _anyone_, I'll start worrying something is really wrong."

"I'm nice to people." He was mock-sulky, also joking. The first man laughed again.

"The singular of 'people' is 'person', love. Just one doesn't count." The second voice muttered something, and the first laughed again. "Come on, Leon, I'm just asking you not to pick a fight. He is Yuffie's friend, after all." I stiffened. Leon! That made the other voice Damian… and the 'he', me. I slipped away, and sat down again in the poetry section, out of hearing range. Damian was definitely a nicer guy than I had given him credit for. Then I snorted. It didn't matter. I wasn't planning to provoke Leon before, so I definitely wouldn't now. It didn't really bother me that he was gay; it was just the first thing that sounded like an insult that came to mind. Vincent, back home, had been bi, hell, he'd even kissed me once. Admittedly, I had hit Vince then gone to brush my teeth, but that had more to do with who it was than him being a guy. I mean seriously. _Vincent._ 'Nuff said. Just sitting here was starting to get boring. I grabbed a book at random, opened it to the middle, and began to read.

_The wind blew in from Bergen, through the dawning to the day…_

I read it all. It was called The Last Hero, by G.K. Chesterton. It was an amazing poem, once you got past the fact that the narrator was certifiably insane. It made the poem all the more fascinating… my eyes trailed down the page, once, twice, and three times, committing it to memory. I have a photographic memory, and it comes in handy. Before long I had a perfect mental image of the page. I closed the book and lay down, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't long before the bell rang, and I went hunting for my next class. English was deadly dull, and nobody talked to anybody much. My next class was gym, which was with the 'sis o's', including Leon, and true to the rules for the first day of school, nothing happened. I did, however, discover that P.E. was split by gender. Damn. I had been looking forward to girls in P.E. shorts. My seventh hour class was the best; introtech with Mr. Ducy. Basically, how things work, done for high school students. Oddly enough, Damian sat next to me in that class, and I found him very easy to talk to. He was very cheerful, and charismatic I a way that made you just warm to him. I resolved to dry and be decent to Leon, if only for his sake.

The last bell rang and people spilled out of the classroom. I was the last one out; the sun was _blisteringly_ hot, and I silently thanked mom for the bottle of sunscreen she'd bought me when we got here. My bike was hot too; I singed my hand getting it unlocked, and I was _not_ looking forward to biking even a yard in this heat, let alone the two miles home. I was sweating like a pig when I finally reached the house, and wanted nothing more than to pour a bucked of ice water on my head, or go swimming. So I took a cold shower. The pool was hot, anyway. It felt great, but of course the water ruined my hair. Feh. I _like_ it spiky. Better still, _girls_ like it spiky. Thankfully, it dried quickly; the air here was so dry it took less than fifteen minutes. I respiked it and sat down at my computer, at a loss as to what to do next. Finally I just called Yuffie and asked what there was to do around here. She suggested I join the study group (her, Damian, and Leon) at the main library. I was less than thrilled with the idea of spending more time with Leon than absolutely necessary, but Damian was decent and Yuffie was fun. Besides, might be girls at the library. So I talked mom into dropping me off in front of the Burton Barr branch, snickering a bit at the name.

At first look, the place was an impressive sight, white sail-like cloth pieces framing five floors of plate glass, and one wall seemed to be made of corroded copper. I walked in, (sans mother, of course) and was even more impressed. It was like walking into a cave at first; the entryway sloped steeply down, a dimly lit passageway of raw concrete. It opened up into a space that filled the hollow heart of the building, and I was struck by the almost chill in the air—not to mention the amazing view. All five stories were built around the central shaft, and I had never seen that much clear glass in one building. A bank of frosted glass elevators was ringed on three sides by a slightly scummy pond, and everything was dark colored or frosted glass, except for the dull gray carpet and matching metal shelves. No doubt about it; the place was huge. Yuffie had said to meet in teen central, on the fourth floor. At home, teen was one shelf in the back corner. I took the elevator up, and was surprised again by the section itself. Everything was painted, bright colors and lights, and people sat working or playing on nearly twenty net computers. Rock music was playing over the stereo system. I moved further into the curved, u-shape room, and finally found the group in the back corner, by a couple of vending machines and a handful of tables. Yuffie was sitting _on _the table, with Damian and Leon working around her. I waved, smiled at Damian, glared at Leon, and pulled out my math binder. Damian returned my greeting with a soft "Hello, Cloud." And I smiled at him again. Leon was carefully not looking at me, but working on his homework. It looked like math as well. For a while we all just worked without talking. I found it a bit distraction, all the people and the music, so I was working slower than usual, but still pretty quick. I finished the math and put it away, pulling out the science homework.

"Stuck?" Yuffie asked sympathetically, glancing at my binder.

"Uh, no. Done." Leon glanced at me, surprised, and Damian put down his pen.

"Good. You can help me, then." It was very odd, trying to explain algebra to a guy a full grade higher than me. Leon was listening too, his eyes flicking up to me every now and then. Damian caught on pretty quick, but Leon still looked confused. I was tempted to offer to help him, too, but something told me that he wouldn't appreciate it. He had an air to him that I suspected put people off—a sort of nobility, stubborn pride. But he wouldn't want help. So I went back to working on my science. It wasn't _very_ much longer before he closed his binder with something halfway between a growl and a sigh.

"_Finally_. I hate algebra." Damian smiled wryly.

"Let's get some food. I could use a break, and Yuffie isn't working anyway." I looked at her paper and realized it wasn't homework, but a very detailed drawing of a ninja battle. How typical. In the end, we went to McDonalds in Leon's car. It was a cool car, too—old, but the classic red paint job was perfect, right down to the 3d black flames down the sides, clearly _painted_ on. Most people used decals, but this was honest-to-god brush work. The ride was a bit squished; the backseat was small and Yuffie was sprawled over most of it, with Damian riding shotgun. The music in the stereo wasn't like anything I had ever heard; Yuffie called it j-pop. I really liked the third song Leon played, track five. The c.d. box listed it as _Vanity_, but I couldn't figure out why. Eating with them at McDonalds was fun, particularly since I'd never been a very social person, it was odd to just eat and talk with friends. It further served to convince me that Damian was _wicked_ cool—he knew more random video game trivia than some self-proclaimed 'hardcore' gamers. At four-thirty, though, he looked at his watch, then Leon.

"Well, I've got to go to work now. Can I beg a ride, Leon?" The brunet nodded and we all packed up.

"Yuff, I'll drop you off after him."

"What about me?" I asked. It seemed like a stupid question, but I did need to know the answer. Leon glared at me.

"You can walk." I opened my mouth to retort, but Damian beat me to it, with an easy grin and wheedling tone.

"Come on, Leon, I won't be able to make him help me with the math if you make him walk." Leon paused, and then nodded, grudgingly.

"Okay." We dropped Damian off at the shopping complex near the school, then Yuffie at her house nearby. It was very tense being in the car with just me and Leon, but no words were spoken and he kept the music loud. At some point he had switched to radio, and the heavy metal was giving me a headache. Finally, he stopped the car at his house and got out, clearly pretending I didn't exist. I returned the favor and walked across the street to my house. The lawn was looking squished in places from having our stuff on top, and where it wasn't squished, it was scorched to a dusty brown. I shuddered and walked into the house. The air-conditioning was a shock after being in Leon's barely cooled car, and I reveled in the chill. One of my parents had set the thermostat even lower than we did at home… oops, back in Boston. That just reminded me of Aerith and I frowned and flopped on my bed. Moving sucks, it really does. And with that thought, I drifted off to sleep.

AN: Again, sorry about the moaning. Also, apologies for the late chapter; but I figure the length explains it. I just could't hit a point it felt right to stop at. Also, in chapter one, I was not exagerating the heat; I live in Phoenix, and 114 in the summer isn't that bad. It's been known to hit as high as 122.


	4. Come a little bit closer

Ugh. Week and a half for a crap chapter. Gomen, minna-san; I've been having problems with writer's block, and I guess I'm not as over them as I thought I was. So…

Leon's PoV

That little brat. I shrugged off the annoyance. He was gone now. I threw my bag against the wall with a clunk, and grabbed a pen and the blank book lying on my desk. Sliding down into the corner, I opened the book and began to write. Not anything particular, not really a journal. Just anything that came to mind. I did angsty poetry pretty well, a fact that amused Damian no end. I'd been forced into entering the school poetry contest last year, and… yeah. No one had expected to have to call the winner of the poetry contest out of in-school suspension to attend the awards ceremony. It had been rather funny. I smiled slightly and glanced down at my book. I flipped to a new page, and started to write. Today, it was a strait up diary entry, though I didn't title it as such. Only girls and lunatics write 'dear diary'. I liked to just start writing.

_First day of school today. Am convinced that there is no god, otherwise would suspect him of a rotten sense of humor. I have two classes with the brat, who I discovered not only goes to my school, but is the pen-pall Yuffie has been raving about for over a year. Arg. That girl is going to kill me someday. The brat moved in across the street two weeks ago, and flipped me off. This did not win my everlasting affection. He doesn't like me much, either, making bating him almost enough fun to make up for the fact that he has to be there. Brat's name is Cloud, btw, and most people could eat for a year on what he must spend on hair gel. Posers like that make me sick. Anyway, if that wasn't enough, Yuffie and Damian brought him along to the library. He is good at math, I'll grant, but he's completely flat. Two-dimensional. Like he's trying so hard to be perfect he forgets to be himself. Or like he thinks he'll only be himself when he IS perfect. I hate people like that._

All this being angry and hating people was giving me a headache. I rubbed the scar on my forehead, cutting between my eyebrows. Odd, but this was the scar I minded the least. Only messed up my face, which was nothing special to start with. I closed the book and returned it to the desk, a vague feeling of melancholy drifting over me. It seemed like too much effort to move. The sun was setting, and the light coming in through the balcony doors was a dark scarlet, the color of blood-red wine. I pushed myself up, and moved to stand in front of the glass, not going out just yet. The sky looked like it was burning, raw orange streaking up to where the sky had already dulled to navy.

Seized by a sudden feel of claustrophobia, I slid the glass door open and stepped out. The air was as hot and dry as only a desert could be, but a rare breeze ruffled my hair. It looked like some artist's rendition of Armageddon, the death of the world. Startling oranges and golds caught on the trees and swimming pools… and in a pair of eyes, belonging to someone sitting in the tree in front of Cloud's house. Cloud himself, as a matter of fact. Watching me. My calm melted as like so much snow, replaced by anger. Twerp! I gave him the finger and stalked back into the house. Just returning the favor. I felt restless, like in itch under my skin. I sat down on the bed and forced myself to remain still and take slow, even breaths. I closed my eyes, and I could feel my pulse in my cheek, where my jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. I forced it to relax, and then slowly uncurled my fingers from the fist they had formed. I didn't sit there for more than a few moments, but the restlessness was eased. Not gone, but merely repressed. Waiting to come loose.

I got out the math I had pretended to finish at the library. Just thinking about that blond brat helping Damian threatened to make me angry again; I forced it down. The sunset had faded to dusky dimness—the room was dark, so I flipped on the light, grimacing at the nasty yellow color. I set to working on my homework. Eventually, I finished, just as the clock was reading eight-thirty. I hadn't really had dinner, but I wasn't hungry. I walked out on the balcony again, not entirely surprised to see cloud in his tree again—or still. Now that the sun had set it was cooler, but the picking-up breeze was still hot, smelling faintly of asphalt and hot stone. It stirred cloud's hair, and I realized he must have washed it; it fell nearly to his shoulders, somehow seeming spiky even without the ever-present gel. I looked up instead. I didn't feel like fighting; I felt tired, and just a little bit lonely.

The sky was clouded over, dark purple thunderheads that glowed faintly where the moon had just risen. South mountain was barely visible, the dust in the air hiding it. It looked like we were in fore a real storm. Here, we call them monsoons, and no one is sure why. August was monsoon season, a time for the few violent storms that dropped most of our year's rain. More wind than rain, the past few years; we were in a drought, a bad one that showed no sign of breaking. That brought my mind—and my eye—to the column of black smoke, barely visible on the northern horizon. For a moment, the breeze smelled of fire to me. The wind growled and sped up, whipping the dust into wild clouds. I half closed my eyes so that my lashes kept the dust out. The dust storm lasted only moments before the first rain streaked down, mud by the time it hit. Lightning flashed vividly, and I heard the growl of distant thunder. I stood tall, enjoying the wind on my bare arms, the rich, elemental smell of wind, water, and earth. The wind caressed my skin, running over a multitude of old scars. Oddly enough, the one I minded the most was the most subtle, barely a white mark over my collarbone. Most people, even Damian, guessed that the one on my face bothered me most. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, so I'm the only one who knows about Anni. The memory alone was enough to make me shudder, and I forced my focus back to the storm, still absently rubbing the mark. It was coming down good now, and my clothes were already soaked.

I could see Cloud, in the lightning flashes; he had gotten out of the tree, but was still standing in the warm, harsh rain. I couldn't make out his expression, but he hadn't gone inside, even with the wind whipping the rain to lash everything fiercely. He hadn't gone inside. Maybe he wasn't so bad, after all.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Gomen. The writer's block has been _bad._ Please review, if you haven't already. Or even if you have, I would love the company. Domou Arigatou, see you next chapter, which will hopefully be sooner.


	5. Don't stay in the shadows

This is a real oddity; a chapter that was only typed, not written on paper. That's mostly just not how I work.

Cloud's PoV

Something, I may never know what, woke me up just after sunset. I could here music from somewhere, barely there, but constant. It fit my mood perfectly; an odd, haunting melancholy. I couldn't make out any of the words, but it was beautiful. I felt slightly light-headed, barely connected to reality. Time seemed to run like a lumpy sauce, slow until a whole gob passed at once.

I climbed out the window, into the tiny niche. It occurred to me now that it would be a perfect dancing stage. The music was louder outside, clearer, and the words were in a distinctly foreign language. I guessed it was coming from the house next door, though I couldn't be sure. The flagstone formed a dancing stage; what performer could ever resist such temptation? So I danced the song that was playing, then the next that came on, another sad song that made no sense, though this was in English. When the third song came on, I was too lost in dancing to do more than pick another dance to set to it. This had always been what took me from an alright dancer to an amazing one; the ability to dance to a song I had never heard.

A fourth tune began, and I wiped sweat out of my eyes and took a seat, cross-legged on the flags. The heat was not too bad, once you got used to it. I debated taking a shower, and decided it would be too much effort; instead, I climbed on to the diving board and stepped off, into the deep near-black water. The sky had faded and the stars brightened; but you could barely see any of them. The lights of the city and the dirt in the air washed them down to pale points of light. The water was warm; not exactly what I was hoping for, but not bad. I waded over to the steps and climbed out, now dripping wet. The warm air was now almost pleasant. It was clouding over quickly, swift amethyst birds made of fog flapping lazily over the sky.

I walked over to the front yard, not through the house, but cutting through the small gap behind the garage. I felt like climbing, like being high up. At home, I had always gone up on the roof. I would do that here, too—but it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying on a one story flat roof, and my parents had expressly forbidden it. So instead, I climbed the tree in the front yard. It wasn't that tall, but at least it got me up off the ground. The music had stopped while I climbed, so I just lay back on the branch and watched the clouds come in through the crisp, scorched-looking leaves.

It wasn't more than a few minutes before I heard the sound of a sliding door opening over the traffic noise; that had been hard to get to, the ever-present sound of cars. I looked towards the source of the sound, and discovered that I was not the only one outside, but that my annoying neighbor was standing on his balcony, looking at the sky. My first instinct was to bristle like an angry cat; but in my current mood, it seemed like far too much trouble. So I simply watched him. He seemed completely different right now; more human, calm, but troubled. The wind was playing with his hair, and I wondered vaguely why he kept it long, since it looked like a lot of trouble. Then I snorted to myself. It was pretty rich for me to wonder about why someone else wore their hair long.

The rain was coming down in large, fat drops now. I closed my eyes and turned up my face, feeling the drops kiss my skin, and remembered. The images scrolled behind my eyes like a movie, time having worn the colors to dull sepia, the lines blurred like smudged chalk.

_A girl in a summer dress, standing in the rain, letting it wash down her face. A boy sat beside her, his muddy blond hair tied back in a tail. The girl's expression was peaceful, calm, but the boy looked angry. "Why are you so calm, Aerith?" even his voice was combatitive. Harsher than she deserved. Yet she simply smiled an expression as gentle as the raindrops that brushed down over both of them. "Why shouldn't I be?" Her voice was soft, kind. Even over the wind and the rain, it had an odd kind of music hidden in it. "Why shouldn't I be calm?" the girl asked again, when he did not answer. She raised her hand to point at the pale grey sky. "The rain washes away sorrow. I asked your grandmother once, and she told me that that is where your name comes from; when you weep, all the sorrows will wash away." The boy merely shook his head. He had been too young to remember his grandmother, except to know that his name had been her curse. How do you go through life with a name like Cloud? When he replied, his tone had lost its heat, but not its unhappiness. "How can that be a good thing, Aerith?"_

I didn't remember what I had been upset about, but that had been one of the major puzzles in my life. Since I was a child, I was told I was named for the clouds, because once the clouds clear everything is more beautiful, but as I had asked Aerith, how was that a good thing? It seemed more like a curse to me. That when I was gone, things would be better? That's a heavy burden to put on anyone. To grow up knowing, that you are the rain cloud over the sun? Sometimes I don't believe it. Sometimes I do. A great many things would be simpler without me—my parents could have their move, and no one would care. Aerith was probably cheering that I was gone. This was part of the reason that Leon bothered me so much. He had so many people, who only wanted to be his friend, yet he was so cold. He turned so many of them away. I had never had anyone who had wanted my friendship, honestly and for myself, except for Aerith. Yuffie was kind, but she was infatuated with a shell; a ghost in a soulless metal box. Not me, not myself. Just that one facet. Now even Aerith was gone. She had promised to call the day I arrived. The phone had already acquired a layer of dust; no one had called. No one.

My eyes stung, and I was glad of the rain; the tears on my cheeks would just be rationalized as rain. I wondered who would see them, then remembered Leon. He was still looking out at the storm, his eyes far away, and his wet hair whipping wildly in the rain. He was rubbing a point on his collarbone like it ached. The look on his face was that of someone trying to rub away memories, and failing. This was a facet of him I had not seen before, sad and soft and almost lonely. Each lightning flash caught in his eyes, and glittered on the raindrops running down his face in a mockery of tears. I returned my gaze to the sky, watching the lightning eat at the edges of the sky like fiery dragons. It seemed cooler now, but the water was warm and harsh. I swung lightly from the branch, hitting neatly on my feet. My parents never noticed if I was here or not, so I would go elsewhere.

I began to walk, with no idea of where I was going and not particularly caring. The rain and the darkness were blurring the streets, but it wouldn't have helped me anyway. This whole city was strange to me. I walked for what must have been an hour, slowly picking up pace until I was running at a gentle lope. I wasn't really sure why I ran; I suppose I was only trying to outrun my trouble. I always try, and fail with equal certainty.

"Cloud!" I skidded to a stop, nearly falling. Strong hands caught me and set me on my feet, and I looked into a pair of startling golden eyes. _Damian_. "What are you doing out this late?"

"I wish I knew." My voice was rough, nonsense even to my own ears, but Damian merely smiled.

"Yes, I know the feeling." His voice was slightly sad, with a trace of something dark in it. Like Leon, he seemed completely different after nightfall. I looked around. We were out in the middle of nowhere, a place in the park called the hill of ghosts; I had heard stories of it from Yuffie. It was better known as 'Suicide Point'. Several people had killed themselves by jumping from the landscaped cliff into the reservoir below. The water there was shallow, but fast; if the fall didn't kill you, the current would. What was Damian doing here after nightfall?

"What are you doing out?" I asked. I had no right to ask, only the need to know. It wasn't to be, though; he only smiled, but it was a haunted expression.

"I needed to think things out. Things are clearer, out here." I shivered, and not from the cold. Even with the rain slowing, it was still warm enough, but Damian's expression chilled me to the bone. "We should both be going. It's cold, and wet, and it's late out." He picked something up, and I saw steel flash in the last of the lightning. A naked blade. The chill that ran through me made my earlier shiver seem like nothing. Damian and I walked back, my eyes occasionally flicking to the blade in his hand. There was something not all sane about Damian, but it seemed to be self-directed. We finally stopped outside a battered concrete apartment complex. It looked rundown, but lights burned in some of the windows.

"You live here?" I asked. I had assumed Damian lived with his family. Then again, I supposed he still could. He glanced at me.

"Home sweet home, thankfully parent-free." Ok, maybe not. I looked around, not really wanting to look at him. Faintly, I realized I recognized the place. I had ridden past here in the daylight to get to school. "You know your way home from here?" I nodded.

"See you at school tomorrow." Something in that statement seemed to amuse him; there was real humor in his tone.

"See you tomorrow." He walked away, disappearing from sight quickly around the edge of the building. I walked back towards my house, as the rain slowed and stopped. The rain-slicked streets shone with light from the many houses, shining with oil. It was so different from home. In Boston, the rain would have whipped the trees and soaked into the dirt, carrying only a bit of dust. Here, the trees were few and sparse, surrounded by houses and streets. The whole land looked blighted, burned. I had reached my house. All the lights were off across the street, but I could still see Leon sitting on the balcony, a quiet smile on his lips. I wondered if he had known what his boyfriend was doing. No, even he couldn't be that cold. I opened the door to head in, and paused and looked up. The clouds had cleared, and the moonlight was bathing everything in pale light. That was what Leon was smiling at. I smiled myself, but it was a bitter expression with no real happiness. Everyone smiles when the Cloud is gone.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

AN: Alright. This is the first chapter of any chaptered fic that I have successfully written on a computer without handwriting it. A rarity, but definitely a timesaver. I'm not really sure where this chapter came from, but if you want a hint, look up the song _In Liverpool_, by Suzanne Vega. You could hear a great version, last I heard, from a band called Wild Oats. A Google search will net them easily. Hopefully, I shall have the next chapter up soon. Please review; it is your comments that keep me writing. Suggestions and calm criticism welcomed with open arms, but please review even if all you have to say is "hi." Arigatou.

Dyslexic Angel


	6. By the wall

More writing direct to pc. Done while re-watching a fan sub of full metal alchemist and a bit of Wolf's Rain, so it's of debatable quality. Still, here is where things really start to get interesting.

Leon's PoV

I settled into school fairly quickly, and the time passed happily enough for me. I even managed not to fight too much with Cloud, which pleased Damian. Something was… off… about Damian, though. He smiled less, and there was a hint of sorrow in his expression even when he smiled. I resolved to watch him more carefully.

Myself, I was having problems of my own. It was rolling around to late October, and the cooler weather was bringing back strikingly unpleasant memories, as was the faint smell of wood smoke. I had met Anni on a day much like this, not long before Halloween.

She had been standing on the street corner in the rain, looking up at the sky with a calm, pleasant expression on her face, her long auburn hair blowing in the wind. I remembered being struck by the childlike wonder on her face; the innocent, unaware beauty that she seemed to radiate. I had gone over and looked at her, and she had introduced herself with a light chuckle. I remembered thinking what a pretty name she had. Anni. I had given her my name, and we had gone for coffee in a little place called the Green Moon café. One thing had led to another, and, well… I didn't want to dwell on it. But the cooler weather had brought all the memories closer to the surface, raw and fresh.

I headed out of the library where I had been studying with Damian, Yuffie, and Cloud. I was restless, I felt trapped and confined. Outside didn't help, either; the wind was blowing and the sky overcast, mocking me. I stalked over towards the athletic fields and pulled myself up to the top of the bleachers. That was marginally better, away from all the happy chatter of people without two brain cells to rub together. The sound of quiet footfalls on the metal made me glance down; Cloud was climbing the bleachers, looking a little worried.

"Are you alright?" He asked. I pulled a bitter grin.

"I'll survive." He didn't look satisfied by that answer, so I added, "Go away." Fairly typically, he didn't listen, just kept coming.

"Make me." His answer was soft, and strong but not aggressive.

"Maybe I should." It came out a harsh growl.

"Perhaps." There was an undercurrent to his speech, almost provocative. All my pent-up restlessness found an outlet at once, and I took a swing at him. He dodged lightly, nearly falling of the slick metal bleachers, but catching his balance quickly. "So." His tone was even and utterly, completely neutral.

I was struck in the side the next instant, by a kick almost too fast to see. When I cleared the haze from my eyes, Cloud was standing on the same level as me, about three feet away, with his face giving no clues to his thoughts. I punched towards his chest, but he dodged and it glanced along the side of his face instead. Cloud was still knocked back, but he recovered quicker than I thought possible and threw a punch of his own. I caught it in my left hand, and returned the gift with my right—hitting him in the chest and knocking him clean over.

He lifted his head and looked at me, with a grin that turned into a wince. I stood, breathing hard, and looked at my fist with something that was neither shock nor regret, but still bore no resemblance to satisfaction. I realized, dimly, that I was now feeling very much better. Part of my mind commented sarcastically that I should fight Cloud more often, and my hand dropped to rub the place where he'd kicked me. That couldn't have been his best kick; it barely stung now. I offered him my hand. Cloud looked at it for a long moment, as though not sure whether it was a joke or a rotten trick. Still, he took it, and I pulled him to his feet. Oddly enough, he grinned, wryly, as though seeing a joke I had missed.

"Feeling better?" He asked. His tone, neutral before, was now warm with affection and gentle humor. It didn't make sense. But I did, feel better. It looked like he had known that better than I.

"I guess." It was grudging, but I did answer him.

"Good." Cloud nodded, apparently satisfied, and we walked back into the library together. When we arrived, Damian and Yuffie both looked at us oddly. I glanced at Cloud, and realized how disheveled he looked, with a bruise rising where I had hit him. I hadn't exactly held back, and I had a sneaking suspicion that I looked almost as bad. Still, neither of them asked, and the bell chimed at that moment.

I didn't see Cloud again until after school, and the bruise on his face was starting to look really nasty. He was unlocking his bike, and I almost went over to talk to him, but something held me back. I just, honestly, had no idea what to say to him. So I waited until he got on his bike and rode off, then got in my car and headed home myself.

The day had cleared up a bit, and was now almost painfully sunny. Even this late in October, it was hot. The sun was coming in the glass door with a vengeance, even through the thick curtains, and I felt oddly tired. I wasn't really sure why. Damian had work; he often seemed too, these days, but that wasn't really surprising. I missed him; it seemed we never got to spend time together, lately. I flopped on my bed and stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns on the blank white spread with my eyes. I must have drifted off like that, because I dreamed. Dreams like I hadn't had in a long time.

I dreamed of Her, as I had so often after she died. Sometimes her eyes were clear and bright, without the madness that had infected them. This time, they weren't. She was standing on a road, a fine layer of dust over shined black boots and blue jeans, wearing a shirt that hadn't been in style since before the fall of Rome. In her hands was a small dagger, about the length of my hand from pommel to tip. It too, was archaic, with a hilt fashioned to resemble some strange monster's head.

She was looking at me, and grinning, something somehow _wrong_ with the expression. In the dream, I didn't recognize it, and I walked towards her. She hugged me hard, and then pulled away. Neither of us spoke; I just hugged her back, and then froze as she pulled open my button-down shirt. I stood paralyzed, unable to move, as she brought the knife to my neck, then lowered it to my collarbone. I still could not move as she drew the blade across my skin, drawing blood where I would later sport the very palest of scars.

I knew this, in my dream; I hadn't then, and I tried to fight, tried to get away, but I only stood their, unable to move, as Anni brought her lips to the wound and kissed the blood away.

The scene changed quickly, and I was back on the hillside in the park, looking at the cliff that would later be named 'suicide point'. The madness was even stronger in her eyes, though her outfit was modern now. A pair of black jeans and a blood red tank top, her long hair too tangled to flow behind her in the breeze.

She stood barefoot, the bare rock cutting into her feet, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. I remembered her, back when all of this was real, asking me, wasn't the sky so lovely today? The wind had tugged on her hair and clothes, and she had reveled in it. I knew what was going to happen, but once again I couldn't move. I was trapped playing out the scene again, as I had once in real life, and many times more in my dreams.

She stood perched on the edge of the cliff, and in one swift motion… she dove. She seemed to hang in the air forever, her arms spread like a bird to fly away, and once again, I could only watch. I had called 9-11 of course, and they had looked for her, but it was more token than anything. No one could survive that fall. Yet, when I had told them, I had left out one important detail; I had said only that she fell. I had never told anyone of Anni's madness.

Later, I had written a poem about it, trying the only way I knew how to ease the memory. The poem had somehow wound up in the hands of one of Yuffie's friends, and he had turned it into the song, _Suicide Point_, that was an instant local sensation. Everyone knew the spot in the song, with a broken wooden sign that just read 'north'. Now all anyone called the place was Suicide Point, and it was more Anni's grave than the cenotaph in the back of the graveyard. They had never found the body. It seemed more fitting that way.

I woke with a start, trembling slightly. It was just after sunset, and the twilight was trickling in between the curtains. I pushed them aside and went out, welcoming the heat. All of me felt cold, and I couldn't stop shivering. It had been a long time since the dreams had been so bad. I leaned on the iron railing, staring at nothing.

Suddenly, I was struck with the impulse to just _move, _to get away from everything. I knew exactly where I would go, too. I swung over the balcony and landed jarringly. It wasn't the best of ways to get down, but mom would be home and I didn't want to have to explain. I ignored the car, but grabbed from the garage the bike I'd gotten years ago. It was a touch small, but when I raised the seat it was fine, so I took off. Near the park was a cart that sold flowers, even in Phoenix's dry heat. I bought some, dark red roses that She had always loved. The woman at the cart smiled at me; it wasn't the first time I had bought flowers here for Anni, though never before she died.

I chained my bike at the entrance to the park and walked quickly up the hill, up to the rocky place called Suicide Point. Thankfully, the fading twilight changed the place, dulling the still-painful memories. This was one of the ways I eased the guilt; leaving flowers for her here, her real grave. I took the roses, one at a time, and dropped them into the river, all but one. That last I lay on the ground, just at the tip of the rock spur.

"Rest well, Anni." I walked away without looking back, but the memory of that place was forever etched in my mind. Just as clearly as in my heart.


	7. The melodies, fading

Last chapter was a bit of a downer, and I'm afraid that this one is going to be even grimmer. People with gore problems are advised to skim; vividly described blood ahoy. On the plus side, my writer's block has marginally improved. This chapter is _very_ odd; I seem to be getting better at writing on my computer, because this chapter was completely written in the same day as the one before it.

Second note: I'm posting this a bit early, not that I think anybody minds, because I forsee iminent loss of net priveledges in my future. If you don't hear from me for a while, it means I did get grounded, not that I quite writing. Furthermore, I had much less time to edit this, so please bear with the mistakes.

Cloud's PoV

I locked my bike to the rack with the ease of several months practice and looked up at the overcast sky. It was finally cooling down to what I considered proper summer weather, but that was all right; it had finally sunk in that I wouldn't have to deal with snow this year. I headed for my first class with a small smile playing about my lips. Things had gotten better lately, with Leon not being nearly so hostile. Then again, I thought as I rubbed the bruise on my face, he certainly hadn't held back any, given the chance to hit me. That had been _really_ stupid; Leon could have really hurt me, particularly since I wasn't really dodging. Dodging would have defeated the purpose. I still didn't know why, but something in me had trusted that he wouldn't hurt me. It had felt right at the time, but that didn't make it look any less stupid in hindsight.

Much of the day seemed to pass fairly quickly; it felt like, if I blinked, it would be tomorrow. Something, however, brought me down to earth very sharply last hour; I had the _strangest_ conversation with Damian. He was writing something, with a sad look in his eyes that I had never seen before. Damien was normally so cheerful, it struck me as strange to see him so depressed.

"What are you writing?" Maybe that would explain what was wrong.

"A letter." Hairs along the back of my spine rose at his tone; sad and just a bit scared, with an undercurrent of something unidentifiable, but terrifying.

"To who?" Cloud Strife rule number one: never admit that you're scared.

"Leon." This puzzled me. It wasn't exactly hard for Damian to talk to Leon in person, after all.

"Why a letter? You could just talk to him." Damian was smiling, an odd, inhuman expression, like the edge of a drawn knife. Something in his face was just _wrong_, something missing or there that shouldn't be.

"Forget it." His hands flashed into sudden movement, and I had to steal myself not to flinch back. He folded whatever he had been writing, then slid it into an envelope with Leon's name written across the back in neat cursive. "When… it all happens, make sure he gets this." I took the letter with hands that were not quite shaking. This conversation was scaring the _hell_ out of me.

"When what happens?" My temerity amazed me, despite it being a perfectly logical question. Something about Damian today was just scaring me, and I thought back to that night in August, when I had met him on Suicide Point. Damian laughed, softly, though there was no real mirth in it. The sound made me shiver, though I don't think he noticed.

"Trust me." He said. "You'll know once it's happened." The bell rang that instant, and I went to gather my stuff. By the time I had the letter safely stowed in my pack, Damian was gone. I walked out into the sunlight; after that odd encounter, even the harsh desert sun seemed slightly chilly. I biked home quickly.

Exercise is an excellent cure for thinking too much. Back in Massachusetts, there had been a dance studio near my house; dozens of different styles, and I had learned some of all of them. Every free moment I had was spent with Aerith, there, or at the martial arts studio they shared space with. When things were going badly, I always danced; it helped me find my balance. Today, when I got home, I took a boom box and ran the power cord out the window. The little room outside my window was shaded and cool; the water jars were mostly filled with water that would be truly icy by now. I turned on the radio, and I danced to any song that came on, any style, changing styles as quickly as the shadows on the flagstones changed in the wind. I must have danced for over an hour that way, doing my best not to think about anything. I didn't want to stop, because I knew my problems were waiting, only held at bay by the music and my movement.

Finally, though, I started to feel the burn in my muscles that said that I had done enough. I turned off the music and filled a bucket from one of the clay pots. They were down by half, this late in the day, but the water was mercifully cool when I dumped it over my head. I was feeling better now. I went into the house through the window, enjoying the chill of air-conditioning on my wet hair and skin. I fell asleep sitting in my desk chair, watching the wind make patterns with the leaves on the wooden lathe.

I managed to avoid thinking about Damian until Sunday night, when the most unlikely of people rang my doorbell. Leon. He looked nervous, distracted.

"Have you seen Damian? I can't get a hold of him." I was forced to shake my head, and Leon looked even more worried. His hair was sticking up oddly where he had run his hands through it so many times, and I wanted to tell him that whatever was wrong, it would be all right. I didn't; he wouldn't have listened if I had. Instead, I did the next best thing I could think of.

"Sorry, no. Want me to help look?" Leon shook his head, looking positively frantic.

"No, I'm sure I'll find him soon. I'll see you tomorrow, then." With that he headed back across the street, got into his car and drove away. I wondered distantly who he was trying to convince. It was only a hunch right now, but I had a feeling, in the back of my mind, that this was what Damian had meant. I pushed the thought away. No.

I waited for Leon the next day at the gate; I was pretty worried about him. He had seemed so frantic. He was a sight, walking in, too. His hair was even more disheveled than the night before, and his eyes had dark circles under them, as though he hadn't slept at all.

"Have you seen him?" were his first words to me, and once again, I had to shake my head. We headed in the direction of first hour, to be brought up short by a huge crowd just outside the library. It was unreigned chaos; everyone was shoving, trying to get to something on the benches in front of the library. Several people had pulled back, looking greenish. An official-type voice was shouting at people to stay back. I pushed my way through the crowd, with Leon at my shoulder, and the sight that met my eyes left little doubt as to Damian's meaning.

He lay sprawled across the concrete bench, his black hair framing his face like a halo, and his eyes were closed. Something dark red-brown streaked the bench and pooled on the concrete below it, the color eerily reminiscent of dried blood. I retched when I realized that it _was_ dried blood. Damian lay as though he were merely asleep, his eyes closed peacfully, and blood spattered over his unaturally pale cheeks. His wrists were a mess, the inside of both fore-arms a meshwork of slashes. The skin had already darkened and begun to stink; fly's buzzed around what was clearly his coarps, yellowish bone showing in some of the deepest cuts. There was no doubt in my mind that he was dead, or how he had died; a box-cutter lay on the ground, inches from his outstretched fingers, innocent exept for its coating of something that could not quite be mistaken for mere rust. I looked away, trying very hard not to vomit, and my eyes fell on Leon.

His eyes were wide; shocked, and I had no doubt that even with his eyes closed, the macabre scene would remain printed on the insides of his eyes. His face had _no_ color to it; his expression was non-existant; frozen. His face was completely blank, the shock not really having sunk in yet. I needed to get him out of here before it did, snap him out of this unatural stupor. I grabbed his arm and tugged, and he remained limp—neither moving with, nor resisting my pull. I called his name, trying to snap him out of it.

"Leon, Leon. Leon, wake up. We need to get you away from here." He turned those startling grey eyes towards me, and they were vacant—nobody home. It was like watching a delicate porcelain doll, somehow animated. I tugged harder on his arm, and this time he stumbled before following me slowly, as though walking in a dream. I wanted to get him home, his or mine, but I wasn't sure how. Walking was out of the question, with him in this trance-like state, bicycle doubly so. Yuffie caught up with us at the gate, looking not to much better than Leon, but at least she seemed self-aware.

"You're taking him home?" I nodded. If I could. "If you can get the keys, I'll drive. I'm not legal yet, but I know how." I nodded myself, showing I understood. I had seen this shocked frame of mind once before, Aerith when her mother had died. I knew how to deal with it this time around. No leeway for mistakes, not this time.

"Leon. Leon, keys?" He fished absently in his pocket, and then handed them to me, that awful, dead look still in his eyes. I knew for a fahct that he wasn't really aware of anything that was going on. I gave the keys to Yuffie, and somehow managed to get Leon into the backseat with me.

I wasn't thinking too clearly myself; the world had taken on a distinctly too-sharp edge, like it does when you stay up for three nights straight. I had only done that the once, but when I had, it had been like this; things going sharp instead of fuzzy at the edges, and a feeling that everything around you was _too_ real to be a part of our reality. Leon was still just staring into space, with an unbelievably lost expression on his face. I had seen this before in Aerith, but truly, I was scarcly less lost now. I pulled him over so that his head lay in my lap and brushed the hair back from those vacent eyes, but he didn't react, didn't move.

We got to my house sooner than I believed possible, and brought him around the house to my little alcove in the backyard. He had gone limp now, so I had to half carry, half drag him. I had read somewhere, that the best way to get a person out of shock is to douse them with cold water. I had gotten in the habit, since I moved in, of filling the large jars before I left for school in the morning, so the water wasn't very cold yet. I hoped it would be cold enough.

"Yuff, do you think you can get a change of clothes for him? He's going to be pretty wet." She nodded, her lips so tight they were almost white, and I realized that she must have seen Damian, too. She left as I filled an old metal bucket with the cool water. First bucket was for Leon; it didn't seem to have any effect, but damn if I was going to give up. Second bucket went over my own head, in an attempt to clear it slightly. It worked, too—the cold helped me focus. I filled the bucket again, and dumped it on Leon. This time, it almost worked—I saw him twitch, before he froze down again. Well, third time's the charm. I refilled the bucket, and splashed him with it, right in the face. This time, he blinked a bit, and sputtered, but when he opened his eyes, the were filled with his own ascerbic personality. His expression hadn't changed much at all, but any fool could see the depths of the anguish in his eyes. He looked at me for a long moment, and when he spoke, it was in an utterly broken tone that made my heart ache in sympathy.

"Tell me I'm dreaming." He said. "Please?" I couldn't bring myself to answer that much pain. Apparently, my silence was answer enough.

He broke down—silent crying that was more heartbreaking to watch than loud sobbing would have been. I knelt beside him on the wet flags and held him, and he just leaned on my shoulder and cried. I spoke to him, though I didn't know even at the time what I said; nonsense words of reassurance, but they seemed to help him a bit. Any bit I could help him was more than important, vital. Yuffie showed up at some point with dry clothes, then left to put together lunch; it had taken her a while to sneak past Leon's mother, and it was now nearly noon, and leon still wept, his head on my chest. I held him tighter, still whispering to him.

It seemed wrong, to see Leon like this; he was always the strong one, hating to be seen as weak more than anything. It didn't seem right, that he should be hurting so much. Leon was supposed to be happy; a cheerfulness masked by a certain clever sarcasm, an inherintly honest heart that balanced paralell streaks of ruthlessness and overwhelming compassion. It didn't seem fair that the world would do this to him. He wasn't born to hurt like this. I held him tighter, and slowly the tears came fewer, then stopped. He looked up at me, and I could tell the pain hadn't eased a bit; he just couldn't stand to cry anymore. I looked back, trying to put all the sypathy I felt in my eyes.

I led him into the house, and he changed into the dry clothes. Yuffie had picked out an outfit I had never seen him in before; a white button-down shirt and a pair of blue jeans. It seemed odd to see Leon in a color other than black, but I had to admit the white suited him just as well. When he was dressed, he lay down on my bed, and I pulled the covers over him. He watched me, as trusting as a child, and neither of us spoke. The world seemed to fragile to trust with words; _Leon_ seemed fragile enough to shatter with a breath. He fell asleep, finally, and only then, when I tried to move away from him, did I notice that his hand was still clasped firmly around mine.


	8. Love will never go

Leon's PoV

Nothing was real. I had to be dreaming. I had to have dreamed it all. I was lying in bed, but I was too afraid to open my eyes. If it were my bed, then it would all have been a dream—but I remembered passing out in Cloud's room, and if that was where I was, then it would have to be real. Damian would have to be… No. Impossible. I slowly forced my eyes open, and my worst fears were confirmed. Brightly colored posters covered every inch of the wall and ceiling, advertising movies and TV. Shows I had never heard of, except for one wall that was covered by shelves. Cloud's room. I closed my eyes, wanting to curse, but not knowing a word bad enough. I shifted slightly and realized my fingers were wrapped around something warm—felt like someone's hand. I squeezed gently, and whoever it was squeezed back, reassuringly. I rolled over and looked up. Then down; the arm led over the bed. Cloud was leaning against the bed, fast asleep, his fingers tangled with mine. I guessed he must have brought me back to his house, but I didn't remember. One thing I did remember, all too clearly. The image was branded in my mind; Damian, lying there, covered and surrounded by his own blood. His eyes were closed as though asleep, but he would never wake. Playing about his lips was the very smallest of smiles. I shivered and closed my eyes, but the image wouldn't go away. It wouldn't go _away!_ I didn't want to remember! I moaned. Makeitstopmakeitstop Make IT STOP. Dimly I heard something moving, felt someone shaking me. Then everything suddenly, startlingly reverted to normal. My cheek was stinging, and Cloud was bending over me, looking worried. It was funny, but the first thing I noticed was how stressed he looked, his eyes darkened to nearly navy with some emotion.

"Don't start that again." It was phrased as an exasperated demand, but it came out sounding more like a plea. It surprised me, that he would care so much.

"Why do _you_ care?" It came out more bitter than I meant it, and Cloud looked as though I'd smacked him.

"You're my _friend_, you unbelievable jerk." That made me smile, the fervent expression on his face, the way he looked so silly with his hair sleep-tousled, the idea of him being my friend. I didn't have friends. Cloud looked unsure of how to react. "So… how are you doing?" I sobered instantly, and it looked like Cloud was berating himself for the question. He really was an open book sometimes. The image washed over me again, and I firmly repressed any sound, but Cloud was watching me in a way that made me guess he already knew how I felt. He confirmed it the next second by sitting beside me on the bed and pulling me into a hug. I just let him hold me, glad of the comfort. Slowly I wrapped my arms around him, and we just sat, as the afternoon sun streamed in the window. Eventually, he began to sing, very softly, though the words were not in English.

"What is that song?" I asked when he was finished. A distraction, any distraction. Cloud answered me slowly.

"It's an ancient wedding song." I shivered; it had sounded more like a dirge or a lament. Cloud noticed my shiver, and answered it.

"It is awfully dark for that, isn't it? It's from a culture where a woman who married was declared dead by her family. After she wed, she would be treated as a stranger to them."

"That's barbaric." My voice was rough but calm, merely stating an observation.

"They were barbarians, in every sense of the word." He replied. "Do you want a translation?" I nodded. Any distraction. He began to speak, his voice carrying the words like poetry, so it almost seemed he was singing. The sound was hypnotic.

_"Turn, turn, the world is turning. Give our friends our love and praise._

_Turn, turn, the earth is turning, wish them well this day of days."_

He kept speaking, in that odd rhythmic pattern, and each phrase made the song seem stranger and more sad. Finally, he reached the end of the song, and sat staring at the mattress. It looked like he was trying to gather courage to say something.

"He—left something for you. Said you were to have it." I was puzzled, and I knew it would show on my face. Cloud continued with the one word guaranteed to get my attention. "Damian. He gave me a letter for you." With that, he rose, graceful as a cat, and came back a moment later with an envelope. I felt odd; I wasn't sure if I wanted to read it. I wasn't sure I was up to it. I held the letter and stared at it, memorizing every detail of the cheap white printer paper, lightly embossed where my name had been written in Damian's graceful handwriting, the ballpoint leaving dents all the way through. Slowly, hypnotized, I tore open the flap. It had been glued, and I tore the paper a bit trying to get it open. It seemed to take an eternity to extract the sheet of harsh white copy paper inside. It too, was handwritten. The back was covered in light ridges where the writer had pressed too hard with a ballpoint pen. I opened it and read slowly, not really taking it in, but wanting, desperately, to understand.

_Leon, if you're reading this, it means that I win our bet. Cloud isn't so bad. Right now, you're blaming yourself. I know you. Don't. I made my choice; it isn't your fault, it isn't Clouds, hell, it isn't even my parents, really. I just don't know how to cope anymore. So yeh, I took the coward's way out. You couldn't have helped. No one could. Don't blame yourself, just remember that I love you._

_Damian_

_p.s. I want my Game Cube to be cremated with me ; )_

I looked up from the paper with tears in my eyes. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or not; despite his words, I still felt guilty. I couldn't help but think that there was something I could do. Cloud was watching me, a concerned, almost protective expression on his face. I didn't want him to see me like this, weak.

"Want some water?" He asked. He seemed to be trying to pretend that I had succeeded in looking tough; I knew I hadn't, but I was grateful for the pity that didn't show in his expression.

"Please." My voice was hoarse, but sounded strong enough. That would have to do. It seemed to take him a long time, but eventually Cloud came back with a glass of cold water. I drained it quickly, rubbing the tears from my eyes, as he crossed over to his desk. One side held his computer, hooked up to speakers, and he worked on it for a moment before soft music drifted out. Celtic, if I had to guess.

"I noticed that you seem to like having music around." Was all he said. I nodded, and lay back, staring at the poster-covered ceiling that was so different from my own. The music kept playing, instrumental flute. A haunting dirge for someone I would never see again.

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Ugg. Short, and not that great. Sorry, my life's been just a wee bit hectic, and this chapter just fought me the whole way. The next one should be better.

REVIEW!

Dyslexic Angel


	9. I'll be there

Cloud's pov

I took a seat at the desk, trying not to look at the lost expression on Leon's face as he stared up at my ceiling. Even though he had grown less hostile, I still had no illusions about us being close. We were friends, but it was fragile, wary. At that moment, I deeply regretted it. It was hard to imagine, seeing the lost expression on his face now, how I had ever thought him cold. It was harder still to imagine how badly he had to be hurting right now.

I stared at the computer screen, watching as Media Player drew elegant designs on the screen. I wanted to say something, anything, to reassure him, make him feel better. The only problem was, I had no clue what to say. What could you say to someone in that position? I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but he didn't seem to notice. He looked dead, his skin unearthly pale except where dark, bruise like marks stood out under his eyes.

"You should try to get some sleep." I said, my voice breaking the soft, sad Celtic flute. "You don't want to get sick."

"mmmmm." He made a non-comital noise, still studying my ceiling as though it held the secret to immortality. I began to feel the slightest traces of annoyance. Quelling them firmly, I drew in a breath.

"My ceiling is not that fascinating, and it will still be their when you wake up. Seriously, Leon." My voice had gotten away from me, some of my worry leaking in. "I don't want you to get a cold or something. Sleep. I'll let you know if anything happens." He looked at me, faintly surprised, then, oddly obedient, let his eyes drift shut.

I remained where I was for several long minutes, as his breathing slowed into the deep rhythms of sleep. Asleep, he looked more peaceful, but even still some trace of sorrow creased his brow in a frown. The paleness of his skin made his scar stand out, and I traced it lightly with a finger, never quite touching his skin. He had so many scars. The button-down shirt he wore was open, revealing the tanned expanse of his chest. Barely an inch was not marked with pale white or pink scars, even a few that had faded into pale, almost invisible gold. I pulled the blankets up to his neck, brushing a few strands of still-damp hair away from his face. The door swung shut behind me with barely a sound as I slipped out into the hall.

Yuffie was draped across the couch, snoring slightly with her mouth hanging open. Behind her the t.v. chattered on softly to itself, while characters with odd, spiky hair and too large eyes in unnatural colors fought each other. I turned it off with a click and continued into the kitchen, scanning the refrigerator for anything to eat. There wasn't much; my parents were out of town again this week, both of them, and I hadn't bothered with shopping. I would have had to get a ride or walk with my groceries, so I had mostly been eating the instant food in the pantry. Walking over to that I looked inside; instant ramen by the flat, instant mashed potatoes, pancake mix, breakfast cereal... spice jars, microwave popcorn, canned tuna, canned soup... canned soup sounded good. I started to look for a can-opener, then paused. I wasn't all that hungry, and the others needed sleep more than food. I left the can on the counter and wandered into the dining room, at a loss for what to do. Eventually, my feet led me outside to my tiny outdoor room. I could hear the music from my computer, I realized. The window was open a crack. Carefully, so as not to wake Leon, I kicked off my shoes and danced. I was agitated, restless, so the dance was the same—almost more kata that dance, with a few gymnastic moves for variety. I threw myself into the motions, and let my thoughts drift away into the soft tapping of my feet, the graceful slide of air against my skin, and the soft sound of drums and flute from the window. I don't know how much time passed there, but eventually I knelt, dripping with sweat and too tired to move beneath the oddly pristine blue sky. It was then that I noticed Leon standing at the window.

His hair was mussed, but he looked a little better for the sleep. I found myself oddly self-conscious—not many people had seen me dance. It wasn't that I didn't trust Leon; I did, but part of me felt oddly naked. Somehow, I managed to rise to my feet. He was still watching, the faintest of frowns on his face, unspeaking. I pushed the window open and climbed clumsily inside. Leon moved back to let me in, his eyes never leaving my face, and I wondered what was so interesting.

"Do you do some kind of martial art?" he asked. His voice was soft, even. I nodded.

"Since I was a kid. Dance and gymnastics as well." he was looking at me with something soft and curiously sad in his eyes. I flinched as his fingers reached out to brush, feather-light, the healing bruise on my face.

"You could have dodged this." The words were barely more than a whisper. I had a sudden urge to be anywhere but here, having this conversation. :

"I need to go take a shower." I said, trying to duck around Leon. He was having none of it, and remained right in front of me.

"You could have dodged it." He repeated, louder, more fervent. I became very interested in my toenails. Look, they needed cutting again...

"You needed to hit something." I muttered. I still wasn't looking at him. When I finally found the courage to look up, he was sitting in my computer chair, looking out the window. I fled.

In the safety of the bathroom, I leaned against the door to try and get myself together. Leon had to bring that up. Stripping, I turned on the water and stepped into the spray. It was cool on my skin, and I shivered slightly, turning it up to as hot as I could stand. I felt a little more balanced now, but I had the feeling that I did not want to stop to think, or that awful image would come back to me. Part of me still felt shaky inside, fragile. I shampooed quickly and ducked out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. Muttering a quick prayer that Yuffie would still be asleep, I gathered my courage and ran for my room. Mercifully, Leon wasn't in there. I pulled on a pair of loose jeans and a black tank top as quickly as I could, before setting out to see what my house guests were up to.

I found both of them in the kitchen, Leon with his head down on the table and Yuffie stirring a pot of something. The can of tomato soup I had been contemplating earlier was empty and sitting on the counter. I took a seat at the table, combing my fingers through my hair. Without the gel, it was long enough to brush my shoulder blades. Yuffie looked up at me as I entered, and did a double-take.

"Wow, your hair is _long_, Cloud!" I managed a small smile.

"Yeah, I spike it so that Mom won't make me cut it." That made Yuffie crack a grin. I got up and grabbed a shallow pan from under the stove. "Anyone want grilled cheese?"

"I do!" Yuffie still somehow managed to be hyper, and I envied her the ability. Leon raised a hand without lifting his head; he let it fall listlessly back to the table a moment later. I grabbed a loaf of bread and a tub of I-can't-believe-any-idiot-thinks-this-is-butter.

"Yuffie, grab me the processed cheese-food please?" She snickered and grabbed the sliced cheese. Ten minutes later, we were all sitting around the table eating tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Yuffie glanced at the clock and looked startled.

"Cloud, what time do your parents get home? They might not like it that you didn't go to school." Leon's knuckles whitened on his spoon. I merely shrugged.

"Not a problem. They're both out of town. Dad doesn't get back till Thursday, mom after that." Total silence fell, and I took a long slurp of my soup. I looked up to see both of them giving me pitying looks. "What'? It's always been like this." They both looked back down at their food and resumed eating. An awkward silence fell, and no one, least of all me, knew how to break it.

AN: I know I said this was discontinued. I'm issuing a slow post warning, because despite my best efforts, this fic really doesn't want to be written. I'm trying, but updates are not likely to be at all frequent, if at all. Still, reviews are a wondrous thing, and nice thoughtful reviews motivate me like nothing else... Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.


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